Saturday at The Hope and Anchor

Loud Women, the organisation founded and spearheaded by feminist social activist Cassie Fox, is responsible for the raising of the profile of women-focused bands all over the UK- and now in the US and Australia. 

The main feature of Saturday night's gig was the variety of genres on display. In terms of etiquette, it was just about perfect, but that's probably a band issue. Without fuss, four acts sound-checked, went on stage on time and finished on time. Believe me, it's so stressful being on a bill where acts overstay their welcome on stage and knock the whole evening off-kilter. You have to just smile a snarly smile and put up with it. So a gentle flow of and evening makes everything better for everyone.

Saturday's event kicked off with Juju, a goth-inspired band who played a tight set of heavy and emotional music. the band is fronted by Juju herself, who has a wonderful voice and is a consummate performer. Her band was spot-on, watching her ready for whatever was coming next. A complete shoo-in for Rebellion next year, I thought.

Second act of the evening was Kat Five, whose career I've watched for about ten years now. she has developed her own style of largely electronic music, triggered by a laptop. Intriguing sounds repeat and speak to each other on each track as she sings over the top. She started the set by swirling jingling miniature mirrors around her head, and finished by brandishing two small branches, accompanied by fairies on the dance-floor. It was fun- remember that concept? I love her current music.

It was our turn next: Ruth and Robert joined me on stage after the first song, which I played solo. There is something really life-affirming about playing now. After having a life-threatening illness myself, and then James dying two weeks ago, being on stage and playing live has a whole layer of meaning that it didn't have before. Every second counts. I felt Ruth and Robert energising the songs, and Gina joined in Three Cheers for Toytown from a spot close to the stage. How lovely to see Rowen too!

I booked loads of gigs while I was ill, not knowing if I'd be able to do them or not, then became so busy playing that I didn't arrange anything for the autumn, which is looking like a bit of a gig desert. Partly, that seems like a shame, although I have about 200 pages of song ideas and probably should start doing something with them!

Anyway- the last woman on the bill was Ch'Lu, a much more established artist than the others. She is classically trained on both voice and guitar ,and what I really enjoyed was hearing the sound of the Spanish guitar (or nylon-strung as it's sometimes called). Ch'Lu is a really good player and oh, that sound!

Hats off to Cassie for yet another night of variety and skill. It was lovely.

Pasteis de Nata, Porto

 

Three Cheers for Toytown

 

Tonight at the Hope & Anchor

Tickets available here or on door: https://dice.fm/event/k6bdp9-chlu-helen-mccookerybook-juju-kat-five-14th-jun-the-hope-and-anchor-london-tickets 

Ice Cream Man

 

Man With Motorbike In Van

 

So Long, Elon

 

Coming Up On Saturday At The Hope And Anchor, London

 

Last Two Days In Brighton

 

The Chefs, by John Barlow

 

07/08/1959- 02/06/2025

I'd had a plan: I would come round to your house on public transport, and we'd climb into your partner's car: she would be coming too. 

Those south London suburbs would be slow and local; we'd pass people with carrier bags full of shopping, old geezers chatting in the sunshine, fags in hand; women with pushchairs and toddlers in tow and men in hi-vis jackets behind garish coloured plastic barriers, digging noisily between big muddy clay piles. 

Soon, we'd feel the roads change as the motorway approached some way after Coulsden South. We'd see the big pale blue sky looming in front of us, and feel the change in the road surface. We'd hear the swish of cars and lorries as they passed and we'd chat in fragments of travel conversation, in bits and pieces. 

We'd see fields from time to time, in between slabs of woodland waving at us as we passed: big dark rippling trees that don't mind traffic, standing in defiance and saying: 'We'll still be here when you've gone, humans'.

Through the early Brighton suburbs we'd glide, so familiar in places from our time living there, but we'd not drive into the centre. Turn left, because we're going to look at the sea from the cliffs. 

We'd look at you anxiously from the corners of our eyes as memories pass through your mind and you speak of past times, bittersweet and funny. I'd think of life's mangle that spat you out to gradually re-form into the future man, the man with a family and pride and dignity that you earned over years of self-determination and strength of mind.

Here we are at the sea, sitting on a bench at the edge of a cliff. The air is sweet and fresh with oxygen, wind direction: undecided. Pesky gulls walk off in disgust when they realise we're not going to feed them. Up there in the sky their brothers and sisters soar beautifully, glittering in the sun. 'We are the history of gulls, our flying patterns learned through millennia, routes planned by nature, living our brutal life and breeding and dying, repeat ad infinitum', they would think if the mechanics of existence allowed them time to ponder.

We have stopped talking now and we look at the line where the sea meets the sky, the line of hope where anything can happen. We breathe, we exist, we feel peace amongst all the chaos. Everything bad that happened has gone, and only good exists.

In my head I sit there with you in companionship, and know that nothing could break the tie between us. This was a journey we never made, but my imagination has taken me there this morning. I love you, James.

Pop-Up Play on Outsiders Music Show

Thanks for the Pop-Up play, Dave!

www.outsidersmusicshow.co.uk

Scaledown #180

On a summer's evening, the braying and hooting of the drunken punters downstairs in the street floats up through the open windows, along with gusts of cigarette smoke. It's the seasonal backdrop to the offerings of Scaledown, that semi-secret night in central London that is always surprising, sometimes grating, sometimes inspiring, sometimes wonderful, and just the best place to be on a Friday evening. Street lighting seeps through the windows as dusk falls, and the excruciatingly bright yellow of the chandeliers battles with it to illuminate intense performers, often hunched over their guitars, keyboards and consoles.

Earlier, we'd been to the Farsight Gallery to see a photographic exhibition that included a black and white photo of the Tin Tabernacle in Kilburn (a whole mind adventure there), and sat in the little park behind St Gile's Church where we were befriended by a robin. We'd also witnessed a bizarre rock video session outside a guitar shop at the end of Denmark Street (a weekly occurrence, apparently). The streets were crammed with tourists, but we were within walking distance of the King and Queen, home of Scaledown.

Sometimes it's packed, sometimes it's sparsely attended. Churlishly, performers frequently exit with their supporters as soon as they've played, which means that the final act often plays to six people or less- or not at all, because the rules on time keeping are vague, and several times I've been there and the last act has had to go home, hands-empty. The leaving-after-you've-played thing is very 'open mic' and really, performers at a quirky night like this ought to know better. But reader, I confess, we left early because my poorly lungs could not cope with the intrusive smoke.

So what was last night's fare? A jazz trio that featured a baritone sax (oh those low notes!) a rookie bassplayer who had mastered the ability to walk his basslines, and a female singer who wrought miracles out of a tiny keyboard just one stage up from miniature, and who had a truly lovely voice; Sylvia Balducci, an Italian singer and campaigner who I used to teach many aeons ago, who sang a set of beautiful and committed Chilean songs from a forthcoming album; a guitarist who wrung a smattering of short and evocative tiny instrumentals out of a Spanish guitar; and finally, Haymanot Tesfa singing two very intricate Ethiopian song accompanying herself on the krar. All of this was threaded together by Mark, Lucy and Kevin, who were just as fascinated by the music as the audience were.

At several points in the evening I thought 'There is no other place that I want to be but here'.  

Release Date Vinyl EP 6th June

https://thepop-upchefs.bandcamp.com/album/the-pop-up-chefs-ep

Delicious Food For Your Dog